


America's Next Top Hunter

by 8BagelWho0



Category: America's Next Top Model, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Reality, Crack, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-20
Updated: 2012-03-10
Packaged: 2017-10-31 11:48:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/343702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8BagelWho0/pseuds/8BagelWho0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lethal beauty.  Guns, both metaphorical and literal.  THIS…is America’s Next Top Hunter!  Now famous for being featured on WTF Fanfiction (?).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: sadrobotinahat.

“Lethal beauty. Guns, both metaphorical and literal. THIS…is America’s Next Top Hunter!”

As a noisy techno remix of “Carry On My Wayward Son” plays over images of salt-packed shells bursting and figures running across a dark, rainy forest ground.

Each contestant appears as his or her name flashes across the screen, first with a full body shot, then with a close-up.

Dean Winchester flips off the camera as his name floats across the screen.

Sam grimaces.

Bobby folds his arms and rolls his eyes.

Ruby grins at the camera, her eyes flashing black momentarily.

John pumps his shotgun single-handedly.

Ellen narrows her eyes and reaches for her back pocket, but her knife’s missing.

Bela holds up Ellen’s knife and smile mischievously.

Jo smiles and cocks her handgun.

Ash smoothes his hair back and smiles for the ladies who are undoubtedly swooning.

Gordon looks like he’s about to rip someone’s head off and probably has recently.

\--

A tall, thin brunette sits behind a gleaming counter, daintily drinking a dark-red acai martini. To her right sits a very uncomfortable-looking Cas, and to her left sits a very angry-looking Uriel. In front of all three stand a hodge-podge mess of very wary-looking people.

She stands up and more than half of the contestants pull out their guns, ready for action. “Hello, contestants, and welcome to America’s Next Top Hunter. You will be tested on both your physical appearance and your ability to kill evil – present company excepted of course…”

Ruby shrugs apathetically.

“Who the hell are you, anyway?” Dean growls at the woman.

The woman laughs humorlessly. “I’m surprised you don’t recognize me. Well, I guess not, really. Intelligence was never really your strong suit, Dean,” she says, her voice silky. Her eyes flash black. “You keep on destroying my meat suits. It’s starting to annoy. I suppose blonde was never my color.”

Sam nudges Dean with his elbow. “Dean,” he says, “it’s Meg.”

“What the hell’s going on, anyway? What is this place,” Dean hisses at his brother.

Sam shrugs, his eyes momentarily concerned. But, just as quickly, his face relaxes. “Let’s just go with it,” he says calmly. Dean gives him a look.

“What are we doing here?!” Dean throws out at Meg.

The hunters start to mumble amongst themselves, weapons being drawn again, each shifting away from the other, eyeing everyone in the room. The discontent is ultimately cut short by a stern look from Meg.

She holds up her borrowed hands. “Settle down, boys, there’s enough testosterone in the room as it is. Anyway, you’re not here to hunt me, are you? You’re here to prove that you are America’s Next Top Hunter!”

Bela raises her hand. “Sorry, but I’m more of a procurer than a hunter.”

The host rolls her eyes. “Close enough. Moving on. To my right, we have Castiel, a good little angel boy who specializes in outerwear and swordplay, and to my left, we have Uriel, who specializes in business casual and…purification.”

She turns and looks at the contestants. “You will be tested throughout this competition, and each week, one hunter will have to go back to their motel room, pack up their weapons, and go home…or go back on the road, whichever.”

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t take care of you right now,” Gordon growls, his body tensing, his hand at the ready.

“The prizes,” Meg says sharply. “One million dollars, and a binding contract from Hell that you will never be bothered by any demons or those under our control.”

Bela’s eyes widen. “Am I to understand that any previous contracts made with Hell would be voided?”

“Sure,” Meg says.

Sam nudges Dean again. “Oh c’mon, like we’re supposed to believe this,” Dean says loudly.

“Ya aren’t exactly the trustworthy type, you know,” Bobby adds.

Castiel stands up. “It’s…true,” he says, and sits back down. Everyone looks at him for a few seconds. He is decidedly not looking at everyone.

“Well then, now that that’s taken care of,” Meg says, clapping her hands. “There’s a surprise for you all next door!”

The motley group straggles into the next room, where three targets have been set up in the back and a long table loaded with weapons is off to the side. John grabs his boys by the shoulders and pulls them aside. “Sam, Dean, watch yourself. I don’t like the idea of a surprise, and especially not one planned by some demon bitch.”

Sam nods. “Sure, Dad,” Dean says, looking a bit wary. “I get the feeling that’s something messed up here.”

John’s eyes search Dean’s face. “Just watch out for Sammy, Dean. You’re the only one’s he’s got,” he says.

“What the hell are you talking about, you’re here! Dad–”

John is halfway across the room by the time Dean has decided to close his mouth. The elder Winchester joins the others gathered around the table. Dean looks at Sam, his eyebrows raised. Sam’s eyebrows, on the other hand, are lowered over his narrowed eyes. “Dean, we’ve got to be careful,” he whispers. 

“I know that!” Dean says, his voice strained. “Everyone keeps telling me that! It’s not like I’m going to fall on an ax or something.”

“No, something is wrong here, really wrong. What is this place?” Sam says, and then stops.

Dean looks at his brother and watches as Sam’s face relaxes again. Panic rises in Dean’s throat. “Sammy, what’s up with you, anyway? You keep on…” His voice trails off. His face seems to readjust itself. He sighs. “Come on, Sammy. Let’s go see what everyone else is doing.”

The brothers join the group of contestants. The table is spread with every type of handheld weapon imaginable. Dean grabs a kopis and holds up the curved sword, his eyes wide and confused. “Okay…” he says, putting it the ancient weapon down and picking up a sawed-off shotgun. “That’s more like it.”

Meg turns to face them, standing in front of the targets. “Accuracy,” she says. “Weapons aren’t any good to you if you can’t hit what you’re hunting. Each of you must pick one weapon from the table.”

Everyone is already holding a weapon. Meg looks a bit annoyed. “Fine. Well then. First one to hit the far target gets a special bonus during the second part of this—”

There is a sharp bang, and the target falls over. Dean smiles. “You were saying?”

“What the Hell!” Meg says, exasperated. She pauses, looking at the damage. She turns back to Dean, her eyes narrowed. “Congratulations, Dean,” she says reluctantly, “you get an advantage in the photo shoot.”

“The what?!” mostly everyone says.

Everyone except Gordon Walker, who is much too busy trying to sneak up on Ruby. Ruby promptly gives Gordon a withering look and brandishes her knife. Gordon backs off, slowly drawing his finger along his neck.

“Yes, the photo shoot,” Meg says, smiling sadistically.

\--

The sun is shining the next morning when Dean and Sam emerge from their motel room. Sam brushes his hair back. “The usual accommodations. You’d think the show would put us up in a hotel or something. So…photo shoot, huh?” he says. “Why are we even here, again?”

“There better be food at this thing,” Dean growls. “Anyway, weren’t we investigating…something?”

Sam looks up at the sky, his voice suddenly distant. “I’m not even sure anymore.”

John waves at them from his own room’s doorway, smiling. Sam frowns. “Dean, there’s something wrong.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “I know! You keep saying that! You don’t think I know that?!” he says irritably. He grimaces. “Man, I’m hungry…”

Bela saunters into their path. “Hello, boys,” she says, smiling. “Just to let you know, I’m going to be winning this photo shoot.”

“What makes you so sure?” Sam says, narrowing his eyes.

“Sam, you’ve got about as much grace as a baby moose,” Bela says, laughing. “And that’s being generous.”

“She kinda right, Sammy—” Dean says, smiling roguishly.

“And you,” she says, rounding on him, “don’t even let me start on you…”

“Yes, please don’t,” Ruby says, suddenly appearing. She turns to Sam. “Hey, can I talk to you for a moment?”

“Uh, sure?” he replies, his brow wrinkling.

The two walk off, Dean too preoccupied arguing with Bela to notice. Ruby looks up at Sam. “I don’t know how much of this has been weirding you out, but I thought you should know that I’m getting some definitely unnatural vibes from all of this…and…” Her voice becomes sleepy. She yawns. “What was I saying?”

Sam scratches the back of his head. “I’m not sure.”

Ruby’s eyes light up. “Oh yeah! Gordon tried to kill me at least two times last night. Could you say something to him about it? It’s getting on my nerves. I want to hold off on finding another body for at least the rest of this show.”

“Sure,” Sam says. “But I think he hates me almost as much as he hates you.”

Ruby thinks for a moment. “True,” she says shortly, and strides off towards the contestant carpool.

He stands there, not quite sure what he should be doing. Dean walks up and grabs his arm. “C’mon, Sammy, time to go be attractive,” he says.

\--

The photography set is filled with vegetation and an assortment of old weapons when the contestants file in. Meg is standing in the center, smiling coldly. “Welcome, hunters,” she says. “Welcome to your first photo shoot.”

Dean glances at Jo, who winks at him. She mimes shooting a gun. “Rather be doing that type of shooting, you know?” she whispers.

“I’d like to introduce your photographers. From the renowned Ghostfacers Photography and Paranormal Studio, here’s Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spangler!”

Ed and Harry walk onto the set, Ed motioning for them to hold the nonexistent applause. “Listen up, fellow purveyors into the unknown, we’ve got an awesome shoot lined up for you today.”

“An amazing shoot,” Harry interjects.

“The most incredible thing you’ve ever had to model your man—”

“—Or lady—”

“—beauty…at. Behold!”

Corbett, smiling sheepishly, wheels out a rack of skimpy tan outfits.

“You will be portraying the native hunters of the Aztecs!” Harry said proudly.

Ed frowned. “I was supposed to tell them that,” he hissed at Harry.

“Sorry, gosh—”

“The Aztecs! A noble race of supernaturally aware people!” Ed cries, throwing up his hands.

“What in—” Ellen starts.

“You there!” Ed says, pointing at Dean. “Texas asshole dude. You apparently won some advantage. Corbett?”

Corbett hurries over, holding a tiger headdress. “You have got to be kidding me,” Dean gasps.

“This is your advantage!” Harry says. “Everyone else, suit up!”

Dean gives Sam a shocked look. Sam is too focused on how small the clothing looks.

\--

“Come on, give us a fierce look!” Ed yells at Bobby.

Bobby stands there, dressed in nothing but a loincloth and a cape, glaring daggers at Ed and Harry. Coincidentally enough, he is also holding a dagger.

Ed sighs and clicks a few more pictures. “Pretend you’re looking at some sort of creature, like a—”

“A couple of idjits like you?” Bobby growls.

“I—I think we’re good” Ed says. “Next!”

\--

Ruby is dressed in a close-fitting dress, holding a spear. “Pretend like you’re aiming at something!” Ed calls helpfully.

“Oh, I don’t have to pretend,” she replies, aiming the weapon at Harry, who screams a little.

“Next!” Ed says quickly.

\--

“Okay, you’re a fearsome warrior…”

“…a hunter of the deadliest prey…”

“…deep in the heart of the forest,” Ed finishes, clicking off a few pictures.

John Winchester, holding a sword, sighs. “You know, I already am all of those things. And I don’t think this weapon is actually accurate. You guys probably should have done a bit more research—”

“Next!” Harry says.

\--

“If you make one comment about my ass, I will end you,” Jo says.

Harry snickers. The snickers turn into screams when Jo aims her bow and arrow at him. “Don’t think I don’t know how to use this,” she growls.

Ed continues clicking off pictures. “Ahh this is so good, keep doing that, yeah, work it!”

“Ed, she’s going to hurt me…!”

“Just dodge the arrow if it comes towards you, it’s not that hard.”

“What?!”

Ed rolls his eyes. “Fine…next!”

\--

“Did you look at my daughter’s ass?” Ellen says, looking very regal and very, very dangerous.

“Ooh, yeah, keep that going,” Ed says, bouncing around, the camera clicking over and over.

“Uh—no, no of course not!” Harry splutters.

“Good. We done here?” she says.

“Sure,” Ed says, a little disappointed. “Why are you people in such a hurry to get this over with?”

“Next!” Harry calls.

\--

“Dr. Badass is a go!” Ash says, striking a pose with the machete, brandishing his chest proudly.

Harry and Ed stand there awkwardly, apparently taken aback by this enthusiasm. Harry nudges Ed, who snaps back into photographer mode, clicking the camera and moving around Ash.

“Be sure to get ‘em all, man, all ya pictures,” Ash says.

“I…I think we’re good, thanks,” Ed says, looking at Harry.

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” Harry adds.

“Sure thing, see ya guys later,” Ash says, striding off the set.

\--

Gordon Walker stands on the set, his body frozen, his eyes on fire. “The only reason you two aren’t dead right now is that you’re both innocent,” he growls, clutching a crossbow.

Ed takes one picture.

“Next!” Harry yelps.

\--

Bela moves her hips to one side, smiling seductively. Ed and Harry both gulp. She holds the blow dart gun gently and strikes another pose. Ed starts clicking off pictures, Bela continuing to move from pose to pose to pose.

“Thanks,” Ed says weakly as Bela saunters off.

\--

This is probably his worst nightmare. Maybe even worse than those visions he used to have.

Sam Winchester is standing half-naked in front of the Ghostfacers, who are attempting to hold a photo shoot.

He grimaces, gripping the staff in his hand. He attempts to strike something resembling a pose, but it’s as if his arms suddenly have a mind of their own, or they were somehow possessed by a malevolent spirit who didn’t want him to win this.

“You’re good,” Ed calls over. “Hey, jerkwad!”

Sam looks up, startled. “Uh, yeah?”

“You can go now,” Harry says, rolling his eyes.

“Ah, thanks, yeah,” Sam mumbles, walking off set. That hadn’t gone well.

\--

“This is ridiculous,” Dean growls from beneath a tiger headdress.

“Come on, you’re the chief!” Harry whines.

Ed nods. “Yeah, you’re like the head honcho in a poncho,” he calls.

“That might be kind of offensive,” Harry whispers.

“Do a pose!” he tells Dean.

Dean flicks him off. “How’s that for a pose, buddy?” he says.

“It’s your funeral, buddy,” Ed replies. The camera repeatedly clicks.

“We done? Cool. The snack bar’s that way, right?”

“Yeah,” Harry says.

“Great. Later!” Dean says, walking off in the direction of food. Harry and Ed shake their heads at each other.

\--

Back in their regular clothes, Sam and Dean walk back to their motel room. “How do you think we did?” Dean says. “As if it really matters.”

“It does matter!” Sam said, slightly shocked. “If you win this, your crossroads deal will be off!”

“Yeah, I don’t know, Sammy. This all seems a bit…off to me still.”

Dean unlocks the door to their motel room and freezes. A folded piece of paper lies on the ground just inside the doorway. Sam looks over his shoulder. “What is it?” he asks.

“What does it look like? It’s a note,” Dean says, bending down and picking it up. He opens it, and starts to read aloud. “Tomorrow you will meet with the judges. Only nine of you will continue on in the hopes of becoming America’s Next Top Hunter.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Sam says.

“Well, what did you expect? It’s a competition. We gotta compete.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sam replies, flopping down onto one of the beds. “I just hope I didn’t mess this up.”

Dean sits down on the edge of the other bed, crumpling the note up and throwing it at the trash basket. It misses. “I’m sure you did fine, Sammy. I mean, you’re not the good-looking one in the family, but the ladies seem to like you fine.”

Sam laughs a little. “Thanks?”

Dean kicks off his shoes. “Rest up, butterface. We gotta big day tomorrow.”

\--

The next day, tensions in the judging room are high. The ten contestants stand opposite Meg, who is holding a large bag in her hand. Castiel and Uriel are emotionless, but Harry and Ed seem to be unable to contain their glee.

“I have ten beautiful hunters standing before me, but I only have nine fake F.B.I. badges in my hands,” she says, “and these badges represent the nine of you that will still be in the running towards becoming America’s Next Top Hunter. But first, let’s take a look at your photos.”

Bobby appears on the screen set in the right wall. He appears to be mid-snarl.

“Bobby, what were you thinking about during this photo?” Meg asks.

“About how idiotic those photographers were,” Bobby says plainly.

Harry and Ed both gasp, offended.

Ruby’s photo appears now, holding a spear threateningly. “This is nice,” Meg says. “Very fierce.”

“You seem to capture the violence inherent in such primitive beings,” Uriel adds.

Castiel gives him a warning look.

John, looking a bit bemused, now appears. The two angels nod. “Decent,” Meg says.

Jo’s anger in her photo contrasts with the relative calm of her mother’s. “Good, very good,” Meg comments on each. Harry and Ed high-five each other.

“A little…over the top,” Castiel says when Ash’s photo comes up. “But in a good way. A brave way.”

It’s now Uriel’s turn to give Castiel a look. “Really? A mud-monkey like that? It looks like he doesn’t know whether he’s a girl or a boy!”

Ash points at his hair. “Don’t diss the mullet,” he says seriously.

Gordon’s photo is appropriately terrifying. No one says anything.

“Wow,” Meg says when Bela’s photo appears. “Someone’s had some practice.”

Bela smiles. “I do try,” she says smoothly.

Meg winks at her. “I bet you do.”

Castiel clears his throat.

Sam, standing off-kilter and looking extremely put-upon, appears on the screen. Dean suppresses a snicker. Sam jabs him with his elbow. “A good, solid effort,” Meg says, also resisting bursting out into laughter. “And finally…”

Dean’s photo appears. He’s flicking off the photographer.

“Very interesting. It’s as if you are embodying the primal spirit of the Aztecs in one rude protest,” Meg says.

“I guess…?” Dean says, a bit surprised.

“Now for those who are still in the competition,” Meg says, opening the bag in her hand. “Bela, will you please step forward.”

Bela steps up, turning back to wink at Sam. “Congratulations,” Meg says, handing her a fake I.D. “You are still in the running to become America’s Next Top Hunter.”

As each name is called, hunters step forward to receive their badge and join the others off to the side. Ellen is called, then Ash, Dean, Ruby, Jo, John, and Gordon. Finally, the only two left are Bobby and Sam.

“Will Bobby and Sam please step forward?” Meg says. After they have done so, she continues, “I have two beautiful hunters standing before me, but I have only one fake I.D. left, and this fake I.D. represents the one of you that will still be in the running towards becoming America’s Next Top Hunter. I will only call one name, and the hunter that I do not call must immediately return to your motel room, pack your weapons, and go home.

“Sam, please step forward. Your bewilderment in this situation was quite a surprise to the judges here. We thought for sure that you would have had some modeling experience, or at least had seen a magazine once in your life. Please step back.

“Bobby, please step forward. You didn’t even cooperate, not one bit. You were being an overall ass. Please step back.

“Sam, you are still in the running towards becoming America’s Next Top Hunter.”

Sam breathes a sigh of relief. Bobby shrugs. “Not really my thing,” he says unconcernedly. He turns to Sam. “You take care of yourself, Sam. And watch out for your brother.”

Sam nods, takes the badge from Meg, and joins the others.

“Well, I guess that’s it,” Bobby says. “See ya.”

He turns and walks away.

\--

He disappears from the group composite photo of the contestants.


	2. Episode 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Episode 2 of America's Next Top Model. It's makeover time!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by moriar-tea.

“Lethal beauty. Guns, both metaphorical and literal. THIS…is America’s Next Top Hunter!”

A noisy techno remix of “Carry On My Wayward Son” plays over images of sawed-off shotguns being fired and fires burning.

Each contestant appears as his or her name flashes across the screen, first with a full body shot, then with a close-up.

Dean Winchester pouts his lips as his name floats across the screen.

Sam shows off one of his most stellar bitch-faces.

Ruby holds a finger up to her lips, her eyebrows arched.

John examines one of his knives, completely ignoring the camera.

Ellen folds her arms and gives the camera a look.

Bela checks her watch and rolls her eyes.

Jo looks up in the middle of cleaning her handgun.

Ash winks at the camera.

Gordon shields his eyes against the glare of the lights.

\--

As Sam and Dean walk towards the judging room, Sam scratches the back of his head. “I don’t know, Dean,” he says, his brows knitted together. “Do you remember any of this even starting?”

Dean gives Sam a sidelong glance. “Sammy, do you remember when any of this bullshit started happening to us?”

“Well, actually, it all started—”

“Just…just stop, Sammy. This is a competition; you gotta get your head in the game! I saw something about that once. Getting your head in the game. Can’t remember exactly…”

“Dean. Sam,” Ruby says, nodding at each. “I’m surprised at you, Dean. I thought at least you’d be out of the competition already.”

“Sister, I ain’t exactly going to just lie down and let you walk all over me,” Dean says, smirking.

A smooth laugh floats over and saturates the air. “Who said anything about walking?” Bela says, gliding over.

“Is that supposed to be some kinda innuendo, or…?”

“Dean, let’s just go in,” Sam interrupts.

John, Ellen, Jo, Ash, and Gordon are already waiting in the judging room, having left earlier. As the late arrivals join the group, Meg stands up from her seat behind the long counter. “Hello, contestants, and welcome to the second round of America’s Next Top Hunter!”

“Yay…” Dean whispers sarcastically. Sam laughs a little.

“Appearances can be important, whether on a case or during downtime, when you don’t want to be noticed too much,” Meg says, walking around the counter. Cas shifts in his seat, his eyes flickering with recognition for a moment as he looks over at Dean and Sam. Uriel’s face is extremely serious, per usual.

“If you had to walk right out of this place at this moment and join the throngs of civilians—”

“Throngs…” Dean mutters, laughing. “Sounds like—”

“Yeah, I get it, shut up,” Sam hisses.

“—would you fit in?” Meg finishes. She looks around at the motley lot of hunters. “Well, most of you, yes, but a few of you seem to be under the impression that you’re in the wrong fucking decade, if you catch my drift.”

“Subtle, as always,” John says.

“So this week we are going to have makeovers! Of course, this is harder for you, since most of you can’t just switch bodies like some of the more advanced entities, but we’ll have to make do with what you already have, unfortunately. As hunters, however, you’ll have to complete a challenge before we can have these makeovers.”

Uriel stands up. “An obstacle course has been set up for you. If you…humans…can make it out alive—”

“Actually,” Castel says, standing up. “I’ll be pulling anyone out that gets into mortal danger.”

“Like old times, eh?” Dean grins.

“Like what times?” Cas says, cocking his head to one side.

“Like with Hell and the zombie routine.”

“You aren’t a zombie, that never—”

“Anyway, there’s going to be an obstacle course. So yeah. Get your asses going,” Meg says, pointing towards the door.

Everyone stands around for a tiny bit, then start heading towards the double doors. As they walk, John edges over to join Sam and Dean. “Dean,” he says seriously, “what was all that about Hell?”

“What about Hell?” Dean says, surprised.

“Yeah, you were just saying something about Hell,” Sam joins in.

Dean’s eyes fog over for a fraction of a second. They quickly clear, and he smiles roguishly. “Hell if I know!” he says, sauntering off ahead of them.

Sam looks at John and shrugs. John looks slightly puzzled, but the look slides off his face like skin sliding off of a shifter. “Obstacle course then. Great,” Ellen grumbles as she passes by them.

\--

“What the hell…” Jo gasps.

Stretching out in front of them as long as a football field is a large pit that has been carved out of the ground beneath the building. A maze has been constructed inside a huge room, with the usual trappings of a military training course. Except for the flickering figures of spirits roaming about. Except for the relatively small group of vampires that appears to have made the place its hunting grounds.

“Dude, you can’t be serious,” Dean says, glaring at Meg, who has joined them at the edge of the death trap.

“How are we supposed to get through that thing?” Ash says, nervously drawing a knife from his boot.

“What? You’re hunters. Go hunt. Oh, and you have about an hour,” Meg says, and strides off.

Uriel suddenly appears. “Mud for the mud-monkeys,” he says, and suddenly all of the contestants are in the pit.

“Fuck,” Dean mutters.

\--

About fifty minutes later, after successfully fending off countless spirits and ganking his fair share of vampires, Dean stands at the opposite end of the obstacle course, bloody and sweaty. Sam joins him quickly, shaking his head as he smoothes back his hair. “Nice save back there,” he says, looking over at Dean.

“No problem, Sammy. Just stop trying to reason with all these damn vampires. You’re a regular Oprah, you know that?”

“Hey, that one nest—”

“I know, I know,” Dean says, waving his gun dismissively. “Now, how the hell do we get out of this thing?”

Sam looks around. “I mean, this is the right area. I remember the basic design of the maze, and we should be in the right spot. It’s really mysterious, isn’t it…?”

“Sam, let’s focus, okay? Is there a ladder…or a rope of some sort?”

As they both look around, John, Ellen, and Jo join them. Dean looks at Jo’s arm, which has been gashed open. “You okay?” he asks.

Jo gives him a look. “Do I look okay to you, genius?”

“Now, kids, settle down,” Ellen says, her eyes scanning the sheer dirt wall of the edge of the maze. “Isn’t there supposed to be a ladder or a rope or something?”

Ash sidles up to the group. “Yeah, I think I saw one a bit back thereaways. I think they’re trying to mislead us by making us think the way out is at the far end.”

They all look at him. He shrugs. “It’s not rocket science.”

“How’s the weather down there?” Bela suddenly calls from above them. She looks down from the top of one of the walls. “You coming or what?”

Ruby appears beside her. “I thought you were the one who only watched out for herself, Miss Helpful. This is a competition, you know.”

“Yeah, but it’d hardly be any fun waiting around for those dickheads to figure it out,” Bela replies.

Gordon walks past them. “And you guys just keep on talking…” he mutters. “Remind me why I haven’t killed you yet?”

By this time, the rest of the gang has made its way up to the wall. Bela and Ruby look at each other, then run after Gordon.

“I don’t remember this being a race,” Jo mutters as the group trudges after the three others.

“Those two would make a competition out of anything, I think,” Ellen replies.

The dirt wall leads to another wall, which connects to the ground on the opposite side of the starting point. As the group assembles near the doors to another room, Meg walks in. “I see you made it out alive,” she says, slightly disappointed. “Well, through these doors, your makeovers will begin. Go on!”

The group wanders through the double doors and into a huge, baroque-styled salon.

\--

“Hellooooooo,” a wiry man lisps, grinning behind a prickly beard. Dean stops and stares at him.

“Dean?” Sam asks, looking worried.

“Sammy, I think I know that guy,” Dean whispers.

“From where? Canada?”

“No, no, somewhere way worse. I can’t quite put my finger on it, though…”

“I’m going to redesign you all,” Alastair purrs. “And it won’t even hurt. Much.”

\--

Sam sits in a barber’s chair, looking slightly perturbed. Alastair leans sideways in order to see past the tall Winchester. “I’m just wondering, and please take this the wrong way, but do you ever wash your hair?” the demon asks.

Sam frowns. “Yeah, of course,” he says.

“With…shampoo, right? And actual water. Because that’s how you’re supposed to wash hair.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Sam says.

Alastair walks around the chair and looks Sam in the eyes. “Okay, I’m going to make a deal with you, kid. Not a demon deal, but a deal nonetheless. Either you wash your hair more, or I cut off your golden locks, and the black sheep of the family with be shorn. Got it?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Oh, and your sideburns are in danger too. Just to make it interesting.”

Sam clutches his sideburns. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me,” Alastair hisses.

Sam glares at the demon. Alastair walks back around to stand behind the chair again. “Okay, just a trim, then,” he says. Sam feels the cold metal of the barber shears on his neck. “This time,” the demon says as he begins to cut away.

\--

Alastair stares at Dean’s stiff, short hair, pondering the gravity-defying strands. “Have you ever thought of getting a buzz cut?” he asks finally.

“Fuck no!” Dean yelps, twisting around in his seat.

Alastair looks thoughtful for a moment and then snaps his fingers. “I have an idea,” he says, grinning sadistically. “What would you do if I said that if you got down off of that barber’s chair and cut the rest of the contestants’ hair, I wouldn’t cut your hair?”

Dean looks slightly pained. “Cut other people’s hair? Like…their hair. With scissors.”

“Obviously,” Alastair says, annoyed.

“No way, dude,” Dean says. “Nooooo way. You don’t want me near a pair of scissors and someone’s hair. They’d look like Edward Scissorhands by the end of it.”

“Maybe next time,” Alastair sighs, starting up the electric razor.

\--

“Hello, Alastair,” Ruby says, sitting in the chair comfortably. “Just trim off the split ends, I seem to have fried them somehow.”

“Sure thing, traitor,” Alastair says sharply. “Let’s just hope I don’t nick your skin in the process.”

“Wouldn’t be a new experience,” Ruby says bitingly.

\--

“Nice beard,” Alastair says to John.

“I know,” John replies.

“I think we’re done here,” Alastair says, jerking his thumb towards the door.

\--

“I want it to be long enough to put in a ponytail, you hear?” Ellen shoots at the demon hair stylist.

“Going for functionality over fashion, are we?” Alastair says cattily.

“Look, I don’t want my hair to get in the way during a fight. Do you know how annoying that is? Can’t see a damn thing sometimes. I don’t want my hair to cost me my life,” Ellen explains heatedly.

“Just a trim, then,” Alastair mutters. “You want boring, you got boring.”

\--

“I want it all off,” Jo says shortly.

Alastair looks at her hair. “All of it? You sure about that?”

“I’m looking for a change, I guess. Before it’s too late,” Jo says, her voice trailing off.

“Life is short,” Alastair replies, “especially for your kind.”

\--

“Do not. Touch. The hair,” Ash warns.

Alastair’s lip is curled. He’s clearly disgusted with the tragically outdated mullet that perches before him on the intelligent man’s head. “It’s like it’s going to attack me or something—”

Ash turns around quickly and looks at him, his eyes fiery. “Don’t. Touch. The hair.”

\--

As Alastair approaches Gordon Walker’s chair, the hunter quickly jumps out of his seat, brandishing a knife and a shotgun. Alastair laughs quietly.

“You really think that’s going to work on me?” he chuckles.

“I’m willing to give it a try,” Gordon growls.

Meg suddenly appears. “Gordon, what the hell do you think you’re doing? Put your toys away,” she demands.

Gordon glares at her. “I should kill you as well, Hellbitch,” he replies.

“Really? That’s all you could come up with? Haven’t heard that one before or anything,” Meg says, sighing. 

Uriel suddenly flutters into existence next to Gordon, takes his weapons, and disappears. Alastair looks at Meg. “Still want me to cut this hunter’s hair?”

“Are you going to at least be civil, Gordy?” Meg says.

Gordon stares back, unflinching.

“Yeah, okay, whatever, leave if you want,” Meg sighs, heading out the door herself.

\--

“A bit of layering on the sides, some shortening in the back, and please mind the highlights,” Bela says quickly.

Alastair rolls his eyes. “You humans always think you know what’s best, don’t you?” he says begrudgingly.

“Oh trust me, that is not the case. But I’ve had enough experience with changing hairstyles to know what works for me and what doesn’t. So quit yipping and get snipping!”

Alastair stares at the back of her head for a moment. Bela refuses to look at him. “Yeah, that just happened,” Bela mutters.

\--

Soon, the contestants are all gathered in the next room with their new (or not-so-new) hairstyles. Meg suddenly appears, a rather bad habit of hers, and walks to the front of the group. “Well then, you’ve all been made over to some extent. Hopefully no one lost any souls in the process, hmm? Okay, now, everyone stay still…”

A sudden, blinding flash of light startles all of the would-be models. As the afterimage fades away, Castiel can be seen holding a large camera towards himself, his eyes huge. Meg walks over. “The other way, you idiot,” she hisses at the stunned angel.

Castiel turns the camera the other way and takes another picture, the flash much more intense this time. He looks down at the camera, and then at Meg. When she gives him a look, he disappears in a flutter of wings.

“Right, that was your photo op, now get your asses in the judging room, I’m already getting tired of this shit,” Meg barks, heading out of the room again.

“That was it?!” Dean says to Sam as the group follows Meg in a unit. “One snapshot, and that’s it? And we’re going into deliberation mode already?”

“It could be worse,” John says, catching up with them. “We could all be dead.”

Dean jerks his head back and looks at his dad. “Yeah…that’s…true…?”

“That is one way of putting it,” Sam mutters. “Look, I’m not good at these things, photoshoots, whatever.”

Dean claps him on a back. “Who knows, Sammy. Maybe you’re better when you’re not overthinking it?”

Sam grimaces as they head towards the judge’s room.

\--

At the judge’s table, Meg, Castiel, and Uriel have been joined by Alastair, who is smiling darkly to himself. As the contestants organize themselves, Meg gets up and walks around the table, holding the bag of fake I.D.s. Castiel still looks a little dazed from his encounter with the incredibly strong flash of the camera. Uriel looks a little grumpy that all of the contestants made it out alive. Meg looks like she’s ready to shoot someone for no reason at all.

“I have nine beautiful hunters standing before me, but I only have eight fake F.B.I. badges in my hands,” she says, “and these badges represent the eight of you that will still be in the running towards becoming America’s Next Top Hunter. But first, let’s take a look at your photo.”

A group photo of the hunters appears on the screen. Meg turns back to the contestants. “Now we’ll ask you a few questions. Sam, you’ve shown a vast improvement from last week’s photo shoot. Do you know why?”

Sam peers over at the group photo, where his image looks…well, actually, rather good. Like something from a magazine cover or a promotional photo for a television show. Strong, yet sentimental. “Uh…I don’t know,” he sputters. “I wasn’t really thinking about it.”

“Now, you didn’t get your hair redone, but I’ve been told that your sideburns are being put in danger,” Meg says.

“What?” Dean gasps.

Sam’s eyebrows are raised. “Yeah, uh, something about needing to wash my hair…”

“I’ve been trying to stick that kid’s hair under a faucet for years,” Dean mutters.

John nudges him. “Not helping,” he mouths at his eldest son.

Dean shrugs. Sam rubs the back of his neck. “Well, we’ll just have to see what happens, won’t we?” Meg says curtly.

Alastair points at Dean. “You there. Dean, isn’t? Why do you do that with your mouth?”

“Do what with my mouth?” Dean demands.

“That thing with your lips. You push them out or something.”

Dean looks around at everyone. “I don’t do anything weird with my lips!” he says, exasperated.

Sam cocks his head. “You do that thing, though. The pouting thing—”

“No, you are not calling me out on this, Grease-Boy,” Dean rounds on Sam.

Throughout the rest of the critiques, Sam and Dean keep shooting death-glares at each other. Ruby does well, as do John, Ellen, Jo, Ash, and Bela. Gordon, however, had apparently been photographed in the middle of his murder attempt of Ruby, so that hurts his chances a bit.

Hunter after hunter are called forward to receive their fake badges until only Gordon and Dean are left standing. “Will Gordon and Dean please step forward?” Meg says. After they have, she continues, “I have two beautiful hunters standing before me, but I have only one fake I.D. left, and this fake I.D. represents the one of you that will still be in the running towards becoming America’s Next Top Hunter. I will only call one name, and the hunter that I do not call must immediately return to your motel room, pack your weapons, and go home.

“Dean, please step forward. Your rather odd way of pouting your lips has puzzled and even scared some of the judges. However, your pictures have been strong overall, and we have taken this into consideration. Step back.

“Gordon, please step forward. Gordon, you keep trying to kill contestants and judges, and this isn’t really very convenient. Your pictures have been somewhat decent, considering the circumstances, but we’re not sure this is the right place for you. Please step back.

“Dean, you are still in the running towards becoming America’s Next Top Hunter.”

Dean lets out a loud gasp, laughing a little. “Wow, that was kinda scary for a moment there,” he says.

“Just take the damn badge,” Meg grumbles. “You and your brother seem to be having a lot of near-death experiences in this. Don’t let this go to your head.”

Dean walks up and takes the badge. “You don’t know the half of it,” he says, grinning.

Gordon pulls out two sawed-off shotguns that he has managed to conceal on his person. “I’m taking you lot down with me, I guess,” he says.

Uriel flashes by him, and they both disappear. “What a sucker,” Meg mutters.

\--

Gordon disappears from the group composite photo of the contestants.


End file.
